Conversations with Sherlock Holmes
by BlackPhoenixRising
Summary: An essay I wrote for English. The idea was to have a conversation with your favorite character from a book you had read. This is my essay. I happened to like it, so here it is. Also, it's a oneshot. Very short. Disclaimer: I don't own Sherlock Holmes


Conversations with Sherlock Holmes

From "Locked Rooms, "The Adventure of the Dancing Men", and "Castle Rouge"

By

Laurie R King, Arthur Conan Doyle, and Carole Nelson Douglas,

Respectively

I first met Sherlock Holmes at the Bodleian Library in Oxford. I had been looking for a rare copy of one of Arthur Conan Doyle's works when I accidentally tripped over something. A bit dazed, I heard a high, concise voice say in an irritated tone, "Is it too much to ask that you watch where you are going nowadays?" I looked up, startled, into a pair of piercing gray eyes. "No sir, but is it to much too ask that you announce your presence when you are crawling about on the floor?" I answered.

The man gave a derisive snort as I got up, picking up my pad and pencil. He glanced at them, and his eyes widened when he caught a glimpse of the title, "Conversations with Classics". It was a short story I had been working on, about what would happen if book characters were real, and lived in this day and age of 1920. I wondered why he was so astounded, when he turned to me quite suddenly and said, "I'm quite real you know."

I looked at him, puzzled, "Of course you're real."

He shook his head impatiently, "No, I, Sherlock Holmes am real."

I gaped at him. "You must be insane. Sherlock Holmes is a character, not a person."

He looked at me, now slightly angry. "I think I should know who I am, and what I've done. That fool, Doyle, has made me a character of fiction, but I assure I am of this world."

I said, suspicious, "Can you prove this claim?"

He sighed and slipped something out of his pocket. It was a piece of paper, crinkled and a bit yellowed with age. It had a line of small stick figures, all in different positions. Scrawled underneath were the words, "Abe Slane". Abe Slane, the American, was famous as the criminal in the story "The Adventure of the Dancing Men" by Mr. Doyle

I was a less suspicious but it still could have been copied from Mr. Doyle's stories. I thought for a minute, and came up with a question Mr. Doyle had never explained, and that was not possible to explain by simply reading his fiction (or so I recently believed).

"What do the symbols mean?" I asked.

He studied my face then answered "They can mean many things depending on what they are written on, how many strokes are used to write them and so on" He paused, then continued, "I believe however that you do not wish to discuss the particular variables and how they affect the content, but more the authenticity of my claim."

I too studied his face. He had a long, angular nose, described by many as "hawkish".

His hair was graying, as he was now, hmmm, sixty-four yrs old?

His slate-colored eyes were hooded, his mouth a thin line. I detected a sense of purpose about him, that he had not wished to stand talking to me, that he was, in his opinion wasting time, and only doing this for propriety's sake. Odd, but I would leave him to his work. I nodded, thanking him, and turned back to my search. However, I found myself turning back to his crouching form, his magnifying glass barely touching the ground. I began to wonder….I wondered what kind of case he was working on…

Was it a murder or a burglary? Who had assigned it? Was it someone famous or an unknown person? Why was he doing it? His own conscience or for political reasons?

What were his clues? Who were his suspects? Where had it happened? My imagination began to run away with me as I considered the possibilities…

"Miss, why are you staring at me?"

I looked around and blinked, startled. I realized I had been staring at him intently for the last ten minutes while I thought about his case. "Err, nothing Mr. Holmes, just about the case you were working on. I was thinking about the particulars of your case and wondering about them."

He tilted his head at me, looked puzzled for such a short moment I must have imagined it then he smiled ever so slightly. "That is the first time someone has ever done that. Wondered about my case and not bothered me about it, asking me to explain everything and anything I do. You are the first, Miss…?"

"Arich" I offered.

"Indeed. Most of human nature is an inquisitive, curious bunch, which helps so much when getting information from them, but not at all when you wish to be alone with your own thoughts."

I almost laughed. I had been given a compliment by the great Holmes himself! However, he was incorrect. I was curious. Encouraged I asked one of the most unusual questions I have ever asked. "Mr. Holmes, if you don't mind could I accompany you on this case? I promise I won't get in the way." Even to myself I sounded like a child eager to go to a sweet shop.

He looked thoughtfully at me, glanced at the trousers and white oxford I was wearing, (against school rules-I should have been wearing a skirt, but it always got in the way!) and nodded slowly. "But you must not get in the way." he said, and then turned away as if being followed by a girl of fifteen was an everyday occurrence.

And I followed him. I watched as he questioned a key witness to the murder he had been tracking when he ran into (rather, was tumbled onto) by me. He was so gentle with the old woman, quietly comforting and reassuring her. His questions were so subtle; you wouldn't have heard them as questions, had you not been listening closely. When we left, I asked him, "Why not just question her outright?" His reply has stayed with me to this day.

"Because if you have just seen a vicious, cold-blooded murder, you have done well just to get up in the morning; you have seen humanity at its worst and you are still dealing with the fact that anyone and everyone, at some level, is capable of doing the same. Your faith in yourself and your company has just taken a huge shock, and yet you still keep going. It is one of few things that recommends humans, that ability to keep going, no matter the odds."

And so he, or rather we, continued with the investigation. As we tracked the murderer through the streets, I watched, and learned. And when the day was over I think that the things I learned from that day were possibly the most valuable things I have learned in my life. For one, observe your world. Two, you have to keep trying, have to keep going. And three, brains and brawn will get you nowhere if you can't see the world like everyone else does.

Sherlock and I are now great friends. We see each other at least once a week, and have what Sherlock calls "fun". He shows me how to track a person through a blizzard and I tell him about the works of Michelangelo. And I suppose that we do have fun.

_Fin_

Did this last September for an English class. Comments? Questions? Insults? All welcome- check out the little purple box off to the corner.


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